Spock and the Bodice Ripper
by TomFoolery
Summary: There is no logic in anxiety, but each time his hands find their way to her warm, coconut scented skin, he worries about pleasing her. Information is power, so as their relationship grows more intimate, Spock decides to research human sexuality. What could go wrong?
1. Oxytocin and The Squire's Mistress

**Author's Note:** This story is an excerpt from An Algorithm for Dating, but it can easily be read as a standalone story. I didn't want to up the T-rating on that story and I didn't want to give up on what I had already started here, and thus this smutty little three-shot was born. I'm not really sure if it's humor, parody, satire, smut, romance, or something else entirely.

Writing good smut is walking a tightrope on a razor's edge, a carefully crafted balance of terminology and euphemisms. It's a hard genre to write and one in which I do not excel, so here's a story that runs the gauntlet of everything that often goes wrong in smut fics and features not only oddly specific medical terms, but also hilarious purple prose and some explicit raunchiness.

I'm not sure if you'll laugh, cringe, or enjoy it (or maybe all three) but without further ado, here's a story about the time Spock accidentally found a trashy romance novel and the things he learned.

* * *

 _She sits on the desk next to components of the broken receiver, swinging her feet in a playful motion. She pulls him close and kisses him and his hands instinctively trail from her kneecaps to her thighs, past the hem of her skirt to her undergarments. She's warm and wet and pauses when his fingertips brush along the edge of the soft, pliable fabric. She shivers._

 _Has he made her uncomfortable? Has he hurt her? He stops, which is fortunate because moments later a cadet casually enters the lab through the door they forgot to secure. He leaves a short time later, wondering if he should have invited her up to his quarters the following night._

The rare moment of inattention passed and Spock pushed the memory of the night before deep into his subconscious and returned to reviewing the chemical composition of oxytocin.

It was a heavily studied neuropeptide produced by the human pituitary gland during sex, childbirth, and breastfeeding. Humans had bestowed a number of monikers upon it: the cuddle chemical, the hug hormone, the moral molecule, and so on, due to its role in pair bonding and female reproductive biological functions. Excepting a pair of amide functional groups, it was identical to yamareen, the Vulcan pon farr hormone. _Fascinating_.

He swiped his finger left across the screen and returned to the previous page, a detailed article about the hypothalamus, and continued to read about its role in human sexual behavior. So many regions of the human brain were essential to sexual function. Moreover, humans produced a wide range of hormones specific to mating – far more than Vulcans – and he wondered about the evolutionary implications of such marked complexity.

From an _anatomical_ standpoint, there was little difference between their species' genitalia and reproductive organs, aside from the presence of a specified sex gland in Vulcans versus a more intricate endocrine system in humans. Nyota had approximately the same vulva, vagina, cervix, uterus, fallopian tubes, and ovaries as her Vulcan counterparts, though he noted her species had an external ko-lok, an organ humans referred to as the clitoris, that was located internally near the cervix in Vulcan females.

At least he _assumed_ Nyota had typical genitalia. He didn't actually _know_.

They had come close to mating on several occasions – the prior evening in the after hours long-range sensor lab they'd found themselves alone and a quick kiss had threatened to evolve into more – but social conventions, interruptions, and the threat of discovery conspired to keep them celibate.

Few Vulcans engaged in mating for purely _recreational_ purposes, but Vulcans still appreciated that mating had functions that went beyond reproduction. It was widely understood that physically joining one's body to a mate was a necessary part of maintaining a pair bond. This necessity seemed to be elevated in humans, likely due to the human inability to link minds with another human partner.

Spock was not bonded to Nyota, either formally through a ceremony or informally through a private mating bond, but he _wished_ to be. He had never told her so, but he loved her.

She was still a cadet and their relationship was still considered "new" by her standards, but he knew enough about her to know she was everything he sought in a mate and nothing he didn't. He enjoyed her bold personality, preferred her engaging company, and secretly admired her gentle touches and smiles.

He sensed she had yet to decide on him, and he understood part of her indecision stemmed from her uncertainty about their sexual compatibility. She'd told him as much, and when he attempted to reassure her that humans and Vulcans were quite capable of copulation, she'd laughed and clarified that she wondered whether she would _enjoy_ the act of mating with him.

It made sense, logically. Mating was generally considered pleasurable for both their species, but a thing that provided pleasure was also inherently subject to degrees. Some things were more pleasurable than others. Furthermore, pleasure was subjective: what he enjoyed would not necessarily be enjoyable to her.

Since her frank admission, he'd puzzled over how to ensure their first mating would be satisfying for her. The longer they continued without resolution, the more uncertain he became.

After the previous night's experience and facing the prospect of being alone with her tonight, he resolved to discover what human females found sexually gratifying – at least on average – and thus his research into the biological aspects of human sexuality. The anatomy and physiology references were helpful in explaining what he should expect to _find_ , but not what he should _do_.

"Computer, research human physiological response to sexual activity."

It returned hundreds of millions of articles, both primary research studies and general literature, so Spock selected the top-rated article and read about the four phases of the sexual response cycle – excitement, plateau, orgasm, and resolution.

He started to read over the excitement phase and quickly limited his search to females – erect penises and swollen testicles were irrelevant to his particular inquiry – and discovered a wide range of characteristics.

 _Heart rate and breathing accelerate. Skin may become flushed. Nipples become erect. Muscular tension increases. Blood flow to the genitals increases, resulting in swelling of the woman's clitoris and labia minora. Vaginal lubrication begins._

Spock paused and glanced out the window.

 _She whispers his name and traces her fingers along the tendons of his neck. Her cheeks are radiating unusual warmth, but he doesn't dare touch them and link their minds together. He doesn't want her to know how much he burns for her. She pushes her pelvis against him; it is a hungry motion._

His PADD chirped, startling him back into the present. It was an automated message indicating unauthorized entry into the one of the unclassified first floor labs of the Tarkington Computer Engineering Building.

An alert would also be sent to campus security and the staff duty operations desk, but Spock decided to investigate the matter for himself. Campus security was notoriously slow to respond to low priority calls – if they responded at all – and the staff duty officer would simply annotate the message in the duty log.

Since he was responsible for those labs and the equipment in them, it seemed prudent to personally ensure they were properly secured and protected against theft and vandalism. He knew subconsciously that he also required a mental respite from his peculiar morning studies due to his growing distraction, but he refused to consciously acknowledge this to himself.

When he arrived at Lab 3 of the Tarkington Building, he found the room locked. He entered his access code and walked inside, surveying the lab and noting it was empty and appeared untouched. Just as he prepared to call campus security, he received a second message, apologizing for the first message, which had been sent in error following a series of regularly scheduled weekend system updates.

He left the lab, sealed the door, and turned left down the corridor. He'd had to enter through the inconvenient afterhours entrance at the North end of the building, but since he could leave by any exit, he chose the shortest and most logical route through a group of study lounges near the main entry.

It was a Saturday so he expected lighter traffic than was typical during the duty week, but he was surprised to find the lounges deserted. He heard a quiet giggle from the far end of the hall. Not _completely_ deserted.

He scanned the area but didn't see anyone. _Strange_. Then his sensitive ears picked up the soft, high-pitched voices of two young women.

"Where did you find this?"

"In my great-grandma's attic over spring break. They were going to send it to the recycler."

"This is _amazing_."

More giggles.

The voices were coming from the opposite end of the main lounge near the exit, but he couldn't identify their precise location. The lounges were open to cadets at all hours; therefore as long as they were students at Starfleet Academy, they were authorized to be here. Spock proceeded toward the exit without further thought, but as he approached their position, their voices became louder and more difficult to ignore.

"So who would you want to 'smother your body with carnal vibrations?'"

The women emitted a loud series of brays and snorts. "I don't even have to think about it – _Commander Spock_."

For a fraction of an instant, his logic failed him and his step faltered. There was a laugh that was met with more hysterical squealing.

"Your computing theory professor? _Really_?"

"I don't know what it is… he's so tall and so… _Vulcan_." She sighed. Spock's eyebrows reflexively rose as he continued toward the door. It was rude to eavesdrop, but he was curious and they had chosen to hold their conversation in a public setting. As he walked closer, he realized they were sitting on the floor in one of the cubicles facing the exit.

He heard one of them muttering, but her voice fell into a crescendo of excitement as she exclaimed, "…said Lord Rycliffe, massaging her treasured pearl of _passion_ before piercing her with his virile maleness!"

Their speech again devolved into shrieks and laughter. Had they been quieter and more reserved, perhaps they might have heard the click of his shoes on the cold tile. _Regrettable_. The moment he walked into view, they both screamed.

Two cadets – one whom he recognized as Eleanor Applebaum, a first year student from his computing theory seminar – stared at him from the floor of the cubicle, eyes wide and unblinking. He hadn't intended to stop and converse with them, but their abject shock at his presence gave him pause.

"Good afternoon, cadets."

" _Sir_ ," they both stammered, scrambling to their feet.

"As you were," he replied.

Their hands dropped to their sides but their eyes remained large and locked on him, studying him as though he were a dangerous predator. Their discomfort was obvious.

"Please, return to your studies," he replied.

Cadet Applebaum's face turned a vivid shade of scarlet. He recalled his morning's research, particularly the excerpt from the article on the excitement phase of the human sexual response cycle that indicated, "skin may become flushed." Given she had announced her desire for him to "smother her body with carnal vibrations," perhaps _that_ was the source of her darkening complexion.

Yet he knew of at least three other conditions that would cause this reaction in her species – heat exhaustion, oxygen depravation, and embarrassment – and concluded he lacked sufficient information to reach a conclusion as to the cause of her reddening face. He had no interest in mating with her but decided it would be indelicate to inform her of this in the company of a third party and particularly when he obtained this knowledge through indirect means.

"We were- uh- just- yeah. We were just leaving, sir," muttered the other cadet through clenched teeth, refusing to make eye contact.

"Yeah. _Right_ ," Cadet Applebaum agreed. "C-c-can we be dismissed, sir?"

"Certainly," he replied, stepping back on his left foot to allow them to pass more easily.

Spock watched as they practically _ran_ for the exit. Once the door closed behind them, he could hear muffled yelping coming from outside. Their behavior was a mystery, but many of his female students conducted themselves in peculiar ways.

Female students generally fell into one of three categories: those who sat very near the front of the classroom, often smiling and blinking at an increased rate and asking frivolous questions, those who sat near the back and looked ill whenever he spoke to them, and those who were indifferent to his instruction and blended in with the rest of the class.

There were occasional exceptions; Nyota had been one. When she'd been a student in his xenolinguistics programming lab in her second year, she sat near the front but rarely asked questions, though when she did they were thoughtful and contributed to the discussion rather than detracted from it. She'd never been afraid to look him in the eye and speak clearly and confidently. She had been an exceptional student.

He took a step forward but a small, rectangular object on the floor grabbed his attention. He stooped to pick it up, presuming one of the cadets had dropped it and discovered it was an antiquated paper book titled, _The Squire's Mistress_.

The cover featured a shirtless man possessing long, dark hair and impressive musculature holding a blonde, buxom woman in a torn, white gown. He tucked it under his arm and left the Tarkington Building, deciding he would return it to Cadet Applebaum when he saw her in his class on Monday afternoon.

He returned to his quarters and his previous studies, resolving to finish reading more about the latter three stages of the human sexual response cycle. The female orgasm intrigued him most.

It was a series of involuntary muscle contractions in the vagina and uterus that often produced a vaginal ejaculate or secretion. More importantly, it was the most critical phase of sexual intercourse in terms of stimulating the chemical changes in the body that produced enhanced feelings of love, intimacy, and contentment.

It seemed the most logical course of action to please Nyota and bring her closer to accepting him as her bonded mate would be to induce an orgasm during their first mating. But how?

"Computer, research how to produce a female orgasm."


	2. A Peculiar Premise

A muscle in his forehead twitched involuntarily and he swallowed, feeling unusual tightness in his throat. He wished to look away, but he needed to get his physical reaction under control first.

Before him on the computer screen, four highly limber women and two exceptionally muscular males performed an orchestra of unsanitary polyamory. Initially Spock had wondered what the roles of the third and fourth females were supposed to be, but now he knew and was fascinated, if not also a little horrified. He inhaled deeply and attempted to repress his emotions, but he couldn't even identify what his current emotions _were_.

Why the chains? Why the latex masks? Why the multi-tailed whip? Why the gag in the black-haired woman's mouth? He supposed the gag was irrelevant now that one of the males had removed it and stuffed a certain appendage into the aforementioned orifice. Surely women didn't _want_ to be treated this way?

" _Fuck me harder_!" she screamed.

" _And_ _where am I fucking you_?" her male companion demanded to know.

" _In my ass_!"

Why would the man ask such an obvious question? Why would humans record such a private act for others to observe?

"Computer, end video."

His eyes scrolled down the page but the results descended further into depravity. He was tempted to investigate the video titled, "Mandy and Mona's Equine Costume Kink," which featured a thumbnail image of two women in a horse costume and a man wearing nothing but a pair of tall black boots and a top hat, but he decided against it. Still, if one woman was at the head of the costume and the other was at the back, _how_ …?

He took another deep breath to re-center himself. Perhaps it was best left unconsidered.

Spock rose from his chair and entered his small kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and sipped at it, feeling more uncertain about human – and by extension, _Nyota's_ – sexual appetites than ever. As a Vulcan, he appreciated infinite diversity in infinite combinations. As a Starfleet officer, he respected that different species tended to hold a variety of cultural norms very different than his own and that it would be illogical to judge their values against his.

Yet he was in a relationship with a human woman, a woman he loved and respected. If human mating rituals revolved around pain, humiliation, and subjugation, he was not certain he could satisfy her, at least not without violating his own ethical tenets.

It occurred to him it was illogical to base his understanding of human sexual preferences upon a single example, but he had no interest in expanding his video-based research. He didn't want to visualize and consider other females; he only wanted Nyota. But in order to please her, he needed to know what sexual activities her species preferred. What a peculiar paradox.

He walked into the main room and considered how to proceed. Nyota was due to arrive in approximately four hours, and he still was uncertain how to provide her with a satisfactory initial sexual experience.

He sat on the low couch, thinking he would benefit from a short period of light meditation before redirecting his research. He rose to his feet, preparing to adjourn to his bedroom and light his pillar candles, but he paused.

He'd set Cadet Applebaum's novel, _The Squire's Mistress_ , on the end table, and the smaller text beneath the author's name caught his eye. It read, " _First he rescued her, then he ravished her... A sultry seduction for the ages_."

The book appeared to be fiction, but he wasn't certain. Though Spock enjoyed poetry, he'd never developed a taste for prose. He'd been required to read several Federation masterpieces as a cadet – _Beowulf_ and the Andorian classic _Saal's Cry_ had been engaging – but he'd never sought out literature to read in his free time. Nyota on the other hand was an avid reader, often devouring a novel a week amid her rigorous course schedule.

They had many common interests – music, mathematics, puzzles – but many differing ones as well. Nyota was so open to exploring the things he enjoyed, but he rarely reciprocated; he often left her to her individual pursuits without a second thought. He suspected it was impossible to know her sexual tastes without directly asking her, but perhaps he could know her better as a person and as a prospective mate by partaking in one of her hobbies.

He turned the book over in his hands, wondering if she'd ever read _The Squire's Mistress._ He thumbed through the book's brittle pages until he found the first chapter.

 _Fog cast a gray gloom over the moor, and over her gentle soul. Anastasia Kent did not love her betrothed and never would, because her heart secretly belonged to another._

Spock's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. He resumed his seat on the sofa and continued to read. The premise was… _peculiar_.

The protagonist, Anastasia Kent, had been engaged to marry Lord Wesley Rycliffe, the Count of Manchesterly, but she was in love with his valet, a man named Maximillian Cavanagh. Maximillian left to seek his fortune and redeem Anastasia's dowry, but Lord Rycliffe married her in his absence, despite his promise to allow the young lovers to wed in two years' time should Maximillian be successful in securing his fortune.

When Spock arrived at the scene that featured their wedding night, he recognized several of the quotes but struggled to understand precisely what was transpiring. He read it twice, working his way through language so euphemistic it bordered on being a dialect separate from Federation Standard English.

 _Lord Rycliffe burst into the bedchamber, determined to sate his lust, to broach the portal of her maidenhood and transform her from girl to woman._

 _"Please, my heart is Maximillian's and shall always be!"_

 _"He is dead," Lord Rycliffe sneered, sweeping her from her feet and carrying her to the bed. "And you are my wedded wife."_

 _"By the laws of man and in the eyes of God, but never in my heart," Anastasia cried._

 _Lord Rycliffe unbuckled his belt, allowing his breeches to descend to the floor. Anastasia looked upon his torrid extension, and while she did not love him, the swollen member captivated her virginal eyes._

 _No, she did not love him, but she would submit to her wifely duty and allow him to smother her body with carnal vibrations._

 _"I yearn to possess your femininity," Lord Rycliffe proclaimed. "To taste your maidenly sweetness."_

 _His tongue caressed her soft mound and then plunged into the depths of her innocence. The experience was delicious. Anastasia wondered if he would take her maidenhead in this way. His fingers wound up her thighs to the apex of her legs and traced along her sensitive folds._

 _"And now, I shall have you," said Lord Rycliffe,_ _massaging her treasured pearl of passion before piercing her with his virile maleness._

Spock glanced up from the page, studying the lines of the wall as he reflected upon the text. Were human affections really so variable that Anastasia would eschew her lover for a man who'd forced her to marry him simply after seeing his penis? At least Spock _assumed_ the phrases "torrid extension" and "swollen member" referred to a penis.

He also assumed Lord Rycliffe's declaration of yearning to taste Anastasia's maidenly sweetness and the subsequent description of him caressing her soft mound before plunging his tongue into the depths of her innocence referred to a method of using his mouth to stimulate her genitals.

Did women find that pleasurable? Anastasia Kent certainly seemed to. Spock considered his survey of female anatomy and puzzled over which structures constituted Anastasia's soft mound, innocence, and pearl of passion.

He recalled the external clitoris contained over 8,000 nerve endings; it was logical to assume this was a sensitive region. But a "pearl of passion?" Furthermore, the novel only stated Lord Rycliffe had massaged it. With what? His tongue? His fingers? His "virile maleness?" The language was unclear.

Spock continued to read and found himself drawn into a strange tangle of human behavior. The night after their wedding, Anastasia became so distraught that she'd betrayed her true love by having intercourse with her husband that she threw herself from the Cliffs of Darley.

A naval vessel pulled her from the water, which turned out to be operated by pirates. The captain intended to take her for his "wench" but the first mate stopped him. They entered a duel and the first mate ran a blade through the captain's heart, revealing himself to be her lover, Maximillian. He took her to the former's captain's cabin, claiming command of the ship for himself, and proceeded to mate with her. Once again, the language was difficult to understand.

 _"I have burned for you, my love," Maximillian whispered, winding his fingers through her damp blond tresses._

 _"I never thought to see you again," Anastasia cried. "Lord Rycliffe said you were dead."_

 _"I could never die without you seeing your beautiful face again, Anastasia. Tell me – was life with Lord Rycliffe very terrible?"_

 _Guilty tears rushed down her face. She was a maiden no longer. Before she could answer, Maximillian caught her in a passionate kiss, a kiss to transcend the ages and go down in history books as among the best of all time._

 _They obeyed their instincts and shed their clothes, and as she gazed upon Maximillian's sweet arrow, she marveled at its length and girth. It was so big._

 _The dampness between her legs threatened to consume her as he laid her gently on the bed. Before he penetrated her with the iron-hard pulse of his arousal, he spread her legs and lapped at the saccharinity of her womanly bud. His unrelenting tongue set her on a course of erotic explosion, but just as she prepared to descend into spasms of fulfillment, his turgid staff rocked the soft folds of her womanhood._

 _The heat of his loins thrust into her fiery furnace –_ surely this didn't refer to a vagina? What was the average temperature inside a vagina? _– and sent her over the edge. She indulged in the throbbing pleasure that raced through her warm, dark haven and Maximillian drove harder, filling her with his seed._

Spock set the novel down in his lap, trying to comprehend what had occurred. He chose to ignore the protagonist's infidelity and the curious motivations of both parties, focusing solely on the sexual act that had just taken place. He picked up the book and skimmed the passage again.

" _…spread her legs and lapped at the saccharinity of her womanly bud. His unrelenting tongue set her on a course of erotic explosion…"_

He had wondered what object or appendage Lord Rycliffe had used to "massage her treasured pearl of passion," but the text was a bit clearer here. He wasn't sure whether "womanly bud" referred generally to the vulva or more specifically to the clitoris or labia, but Maximillian had used his tongue. _Fascinating_.

He stood and walked to his computer, carrying the novel. He took a seat and pondered an optimal search term.

"Computer: research methods of stimulating female genitalia."

The results returned a plethora of material, from more pornographic videos to advice columns to peer-reviewed scientific studies. Most of the research seemed to focus on the clitoris. He started with the scientific studies, fascinated to learn that the size, shape, and location of the clitoris affected a woman's ability to have an orgasm.

When he refined his parameters to search for preferred methods of clitoral stimulation, he found a comprehensive report on human female sexuality. It had been published nearly forty years earlier, but it seemed logical to assume human women hadn't drastically evolved in four decades.

The report was 521 pages long without references, but Spock consumed it readily. He was drawn to it by the nature of the study: researchers had surveyed 98,848 women about their sexual preferences, everything from methods of masturbation to preferred sexual positions.

He was relieved to discover that most women on average did not prefer pain, abuse, humiliation, or violent domination, but also dismayed by the wide variation in their responses. Approximately 75 percent of females claimed they required some form of clitoral stimulation to achieve an orgasm, but some women preferred to have their vaginas penetrated while applying digital clitoral stimulation, while others reported only being able to achieve orgasm through an oral stimulus. A small but still statistically significant number of women also enjoyed simultaneous _anal_ stimulation. _Fascinating_.

Though there was a lot of variation, there were also a few commonalities. For nearly all females to experience an orgasm, they needed to be relaxed and feel safe and secure.

He had just made it to a section on techniques for manually stimulating a clitoris when he received a call from the San Francisco Transporter Office, notifying him that Nyota was ready to transport to his private residence. He glanced at the time – 2045 hours – and realized Nyota wasn't due for another fifteen minutes.

"Computer: clear search history."

He stood and turned just in time to see her re-materializing by the front door. Her hair was loose and she wore a red dress with hemline that accentuated her shapely legs. Her eyes radiated vitality and she smelled of coconut and spearmint. _She was beautiful_.

Nyota shifted her weight onto her right foot and glanced around. He gazed at the length of her legs, noting the healthy glow of her skin and the curves of her defined musculature.

"Spock?"

"Yes, Nyota?" He glanced from her legs to her face to see she wore a curious smile.

"Sorry I'm early, but I was expecting a line at the transport office on a Saturday night. That's what I get for making assumptions, I guess."

"I see."

She chewed her lip and nodded. "So what have you been up to today?"


	3. Secrets of a Vulcan Boyfriend

He never did get the chance to answer her question, because moments later they were locked together in a hurried struggle to satiate imprudent and illogical lust.

His tongue pushed deeper into her mouth, moving in tandem with hers. Her hands found their way to his waist, sneaking underneath his shirt to explore the bare flesh of his abdomen. The electric touch of her fingertips sent an involuntary shiver down his spine.

"Is this ok?" she whispered.

"Certainly." His voice was breathy and foreign.

Her hands traveled underneath his shirt to his pectoral muscles, and then quickly grasped the bottom hem of the garment and tugged it over his head. He stood before her, naked to the waist, suddenly feeling a white hot pulse coursing through him. He was quite practiced in controlling his autonomic responses, but he was powerless to steady his erratic breathing, slow his increasing heart rate, or prevent the swelling of his sexual organ.

"Spock?" she murmured, her eyes trailing from his chest to his mouth.

The moment their eyes met, he stepped forward, cupped his hands around her jaw, and met their mouths together in another heated kiss. She returned his advances for a few seconds before tearing her face away to begin kissing a path down his neck to his chest.

"Will you permit me- may I enter your mind?" he asked, unable to control the frantic timbre of his voice.

She briefly halted her oral explorations and whispered, "Yes."

His hands didn't hesitate – they immediately slid over the crest of her jaw, his fingertips searching for the pressure points to link their minds together in the most intimate of melds. The enormity of her desire was surprising, as it nearly matched his own.

She whimpered and pulled away, and only then did Spock understand just how firm his touch had been. He held his breath, wondering if he was entering the throes of pon farr: never had a female stimulated him in this way. He wanted to slow himself, wanted to regain some modicum of logic, but the rhythmic rise and fall of her breasts from her heavy panting and the length of her lithe legs and the delicious smell of coconut radiating from her skin were impossible to ignore.

"I- I apologize," he told her, forcing himself to back away to avoid causing her further injury.

"It's ok, I'm ok," she stammered. "You just _surprised_ me. I had no idea you were so… so…"

A moment of silence passed between them as her eyes studied the floor and she gasped for breath. When her gaze finally returned to his face, he noted the presence of a peculiar spark that drove his hunger onward.

They flung themselves into a knot of twisting arms and legs. Her fingers first tore at the buckle of his belt and then at the back of her dress, but he halted her efforts when he handily twirled her from her position in the middle of his sitting room and tossed her slender figure onto the sofa.

She bounced against the springy cushions as he fell to his knees beside her. Her legs drifted apart, revealing a flash of dark blue underclothing beneath her vivid red dress. He felt a tangible need to touch her, possess her, _connect_ with her in any way possible.

Her fingers surveyed the waistband of his trousers and found their way to his belt once again. He crawled over her on all fours as she worked to free him from his clothing, running his hands over her strong yet delicate physique. His left hand hiked the short dress over her hips, revealing her silky and thin undergarment. He ran his thumb along the seam, gently brushing the soft, warm flesh.

A low moan escaped her lips and she pushed herself into his hand, but before he could further explore her sensitive folds, her palm pressed against his swollen lok. This simple and unexpected movement induced in Spock an involuntary shudder that rippled through his body, causing his fingers to unintentionally jab into her tender skin.

She yelped – whether from surprise or injury he wasn't sure – and sat up suddenly. Her forehead smashed into the underside of his nose and though his eyes instinctively closed and immediately began to water, he was only dimly aware of the pain.

"Have I injured you?" he asked, noting the odd, muffled quality of his voice.

He forced his eyes open and saw the look of shock in her eyes at the same moment he felt the moisture trickling from his nose onto his upper lip.

"Oh no- oh- _why_?" she cried, crawling out from underneath him. "Spock, I'm _so_ sorry."

He touched his fingers to the base of his nose; they came away covered in bright green blood. He probed the cartilage and noted a grating feeling accompanied by sharp pain. She had broken his nose – an impressive feat, given several dedicated bullies had tried in his youth and none had been successful.

He rose to his feet just as she returned from his kitchen with a clean towel. She gently held it to the lower half of his face and he brought his left hand up to hold it in place. There were tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and he found it difficult to repress feelings of panic. She had thrashed violently enough to fracture his nose. Had he hurt her that badly?

"Nyota, are you-"

"I'm sorry," she interrupted, her voice shaking and high-pitched. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. _Ugh_ , this is a disaster."

"Are you injured?" he repeated, unable to take his eyes from her trembling form.

Her eyes widened, her brow furrowed, and her mouth fell open. "I'm _fine_. You though… I'm so sorry."

"There is nothing for which to apologize," he replied, still fighting to repress his concern for her condition.

"I think I broke your nose!"

"It was not intentional."

Her bewildered look intensified and she took a deep breath. The presence of a tear falling from her left eye elicited another powerful emotion within him that he could neither identify nor immediately subdue.

"Nyota," he whispered, extending his right hand to hers.

She pulled her hand away and shook her head. "Do you have a med kit?"

"On the floor in the hall closet," he responded.

Spock watched her race to locate the case of medical supplies and return with a small osteoregenerator in a matter of seconds.

"Sit," she ordered, pointing to the couch.

He did as she asked and she slumped onto her knees beside him on the floor. She cupped her hand over the towel to draw it away from his face, revealing a large, vivid green bloodstain. She stood up taller on her knees, powering on the medical instrument. It was smaller than a standard professional osteoregenerator, designed to mend small hairline fractures or broken toes and fingers, so it took nearly twenty minutes for her to heal the break to his nose.

She talked as she worked, lamenting the unfortunate events that had led them to this juncture. He attempted to explain that it was illogical to cry or apologize repeatedly, but she told him to be quiet because speech caused his face to move too much and slowed her progress. So he listened, growing more perplexed by her series of confessions.

"I can't believe I did this. I've never been _awkward_ , you know what I mean?"

He shot her a pointed look and prepared to answer, but she quickly said, "It was a rhetorical question – don't answer it. Hold still."

"I even wore my lucky panties," she sighed, moving the osteoregenerator over the bridge of his nose.

He wanted to inquire why she illogically believed an undergarment could bring good fortune, but a dull ache started to radiate through his brow and cheeks, and another cascade of blood began to seep from his nostrils. He dabbed at it and remained silent. After several more minutes, she shut the device off and gripped it tightly.

"I just wanted tonight to be perfect, you know?"

"The night is not over," he reminded her.

"Don't tell me you're still interested after what just happened?"

He wasn't sure whether she referred to being interested in her as a mate or in having intercourse with her, but the answer to both was "yes." He was about to tell her so when she said, "Can I make a confession?"

"It is often preferable to concealing the truth."

"Well, I've never been with any… you know, non-human guys. I've never been nervous or shy about sex at all, but you… I don't know _why_ it's different with you. I've spent the last few months wondering just how physically compatible we really are – do you know how weird it is researching Vulcan anatomy in a medical database, by the way? But I keep wondering if you're going to see me naked and think I look weird or-"

"You researched Vulcan anatomy?" he interrupted, suddenly intrigued.

"I hope that's not as creepy as it sounds," she moaned. " _Ugh_ , now that I say it out loud, I realize that it _is_ pretty creepy. I just- I went through sex ed in high school and I know all about _human_ anatomy, but I didn't want there to be any weird surprises and oh wow… I can't believe I'm admitting all this to you."

She sighed and sat down on her hip, leaning her back against the lower part of the couch.

"I also performed a survey of human female anatomy and sexuality," he explained.

She craned her neck to look at him, a stark look of surprise falling across her face. " _Really_?"

"It was logical, for reasons which you have already enumerated."

She bit her lip and rested her cheek against his knee. He presumed from her subtle exhalations that she was attempting to stifle laughter. "I'm just curious – what did you learn?"

"Your anatomy is approximately analogous to a typical Vulcan female's and that human mating rituals appear to be unique to the individual."

"I guess we both have a tendency to overthink things," she scoffed.

Spock slid from the sofa to the floor to take a seat next to her. She shifted her weight and turned her body to face him, and when he offered her his fingers in ozh'esta again, she returned the gesture. She closed her eyes, clearly enjoying the subtle contentment of the finger embrace and mumbled, "I just didn't want this to go wrong and hurt our relationship."

"My primary concern is hurting _you_ ," he explained. "Your bone density is approximately one third of mine, and-"

"I'm not a china doll," she interjected, giving him a doleful look. "Spock, if something hurts or doesn't feel good, I'll let you know. But you shouldn't be afraid to touch me."

His fingertips traced around the knuckles of her forefingers, but it was obvious from her lethargic response that her mind was still occupied. "Fear is illogical, Nyota. I am not afraid to touch you, I simply do not know how you prefer to be touched."

"That's why the first time is usually awkward and mediocre," she replied, glancing at his bare chest and allowing the corners of her mouth to gently twist upward. "It almost never ends up being like in the stories or holomovies where a guy sweeps a girl off her feet and they have the best sex in the history of sex."

"You speak hyperbolically."

She rolled her eyes and chuckled, "Yes, but you know what I mean. It wouldn't be reasonable for me to expect any guy to just _know_ what I like. I _know_ you don't know how I want to be touched, but I'm willing to _show_ you."

A delicate kiss landed on his lips and a muscle in his chest twitched when her hands started to explore his sternum. He worked to maintain his composure this time and after a few moments, raised his right hand to her cheek and joined their minds. She was beginning to relax, and he recalled from his earlier studies that females were more likely to obtain an orgasm when relaxed. He deliberated the optimal method for calming her further, but she pulled away and rose to her feet.

"Come on," she said, offering her hands to him.

He didn't require her assistance, but still took her hands as a courtesy as he stood to join her. Her fingers laced around his hand and she led him back down the hall to his bedroom, stopping just beyond the threshold to shut the door behind them.

"I figured this would probably be more comfortable than your couch or the living room floor," she mumbled, drawing her hair to one side and kicking off her shoes.

"Logical," he replied, glancing from her to the bed.

"Can you help me undo my dress?"

He moved behind her and unfastened the hook at the top. She shifted her weight onto her left foot and the effect on her figure was quite pleasing. Her posterior was small but shapely and when she took a step backward, she brushed against his crotch, causing him to momentarily lose focus.

"Um, can you get the zipper too?" she asked.

"Certainly."

His hands searched for the tiny zipper pull buried in the fabric, and when he located it and began to pull downward, he caught another hint of the coconut smell that so often reminded him of Nyota. His hands continued until the zipper stopped at the small of her back, and then she wriggled and the garment fell to the floor.

It took him several seconds to realize he was holding his breath. The lighting was dim but he could see the dark underwear only covered the top half of her buttocks. He fought a strange impulse to caress her, but recalling her earlier remark that he shouldn't be afraid to touch her, he allowed his hands to rest on her hips.

She rocked back against him and he instinctively let her go, but she grabbed his hands and returned them to their former perch, and then guided them downward to the bare skin of her buttocks. His mind began to wander and when he instinctively gripped the muscles of her backside more firmly, she moaned and pushed into him. His lok immediately became engorged.

He took a series of slow breaths to collect himself, but Nyota spun around to face him. He wanted to see more of her behind, but the swell of her breasts against the dark blue brassiere was also quite visually stimulating. She glanced up at him, her eyebrows arched high and her dark eyes wide and searching, and she twisted her arms around her back and soon the upper undergarment fell away, revealing a set of round and petite breasts with small, dark nipples.

She took a half step forward, pushing her pelvis into his and it took everything Spock had to prevent himself from grabbing her and tossing her on his bed. Lord Rycliffe and Maximillian had both done this to Anastasia Kent, but hadn't Nyota just explained the initial sexual encounter never happened as it was depicted in stories?

Her eyes trailed down to his trousers where his swollen lok bulged against the fabric. She rested her hands on the waistband and methodically began to undo the buckle of his belt. When she was finished, he unfastened the buttons of his trousers and kicked them, along with his underwear, to the floor.

She remained motionless, staring at his groin while Spock's eyes surveyed her body – her long abdomen and her rounded breasts, her delicate collarbones and her small navel. When their eyes finally met again, he sensed her hesitation.

" _What_?" she whispered.

"You possess a very aesthetically pleasing form," he replied, his speech following a hastier cadence than was typical.

"You- you're not too bad yourself," she laughed, biting her lip and quickly running her eyes along his body.

"May I meld with you?" Spock asked, holding his palms up.

She stepped forward, almost setting her face in his hands. The moment his fingertips made contact with the pressure points, he was greeted by a swell of emotion that ricocheted from excitement and anxiety to curiosity and… _love_. Or at least it _seemed_ like an affection so profound it bordered on love. He probed the sentiment, searching for a more conclusive answer, but the sensation of her hands on his abdomen caused him to falter.

His hands immediately wound down her cheeks to her neck, shoulders, and breasts. The moment his thumbs brushed against her nipples, she whimpered and pushed her body against his – not from pain, but from _pleasure_. He gripped her breasts and her whimper turned into a long moan and just as he started to run his hands down to her waist, he felt an appealing tickling sensation radiate down the shaft of his lok. Her fingers played around the head of the organ, igniting an intense need within him. He stepped back and inhaled deeply.

" _Spock_?"

He kissed her, tenderly gripping the sides of her neck. She started to walk backward toward the bed and he followed, struggling to keep his baser urges in check. She leapt up onto the high bed, breaking their kiss as she leaned back onto her elbows. Nyota lifted herself and tugged at the bottom of her dark blue panties, and Spock, seeing what she intended, helped pull the garment from her knees to her toes, finally freeing her of the last shred of her clothing.

She slinked further up onto the bed and he followed her, running his hands along her naked frame, allowing his eyes to drink in her beautiful honey colored skin and his palms to absorb the soft, warm feel of her flesh. Small bumps erupted on her thighs, a phenomenon he knew was a human autonomic response called gooseflesh, often attributed to exposure to cold temperatures.

"Is the temperature of the room acceptable?" he asked, sitting up on his knees.

" _Yes_ ," she gasped, sitting up to kiss him again.

He stroked her chest with his left hand and met their minds together with his right. Her consciousness was active and teeming with nervous energy, so he continued to kiss her and trace his fingers along the curves of her breasts. Nyota refused to be a passive participant however, and her hands quickly found their way to his lok, which by now was throbbing and extremely sensitive to her touch.

His fingers walked along the underside of her breasts, down her belly, past her navel, and eventually found the warm and damp intersection of her legs. Her mind raced faster.

His thumb traced around her clitoris, provoking a low moan from Nyota, and soon he applied soft pressure and began to massage this much-studied region. He started with slow and deliberate circular movements, unsure what motion she would find most gratifying. He gradually applied more pressure and waited for her to show him how she wanted to be touched, but she didn't, at least not until he moved his hand away to run it along the inside of her thigh.

She released her grip on his lok and seized his wrist, returning his fingers to their previous occupation. Their hands moved in sync for a few moments, rotating around her highly sensitive spot. He never let go of her mind and soon he began to ponder why she seemed to be growing more agitated and anxious when he had hoped to induce in her a calm and relaxed state. When she broke away from their kiss and started teasing his ear with her tongue, he finally realized it wasn't nervousness she was experiencing, but anticipation.

He moved his right hand from her face and set it on her knee to gently push her legs further apart, and then he crawled over her right leg, moved his left hand to her stomach, and sunk his mouth onto her ko-lok. Nyota emitted a guttural gasp the moment the tip of his tongue touched her and drove her hips upward to his face. He wrapped his left arm around her thigh to draw her body closer to his and continued his efforts.

Spock wouldn't have described it as a "sweetness" like the novel had indicated, but her taste was pleasant enough, mildly musky with light metallic and tangy notes. His tongue rolled over the tiny pleasure spot repeatedly, starting slowly but moving faster with each passing minute, trying to assess what felt best for her.

She panted and moaned, rubbing her breasts with one hand and running the other through his dark, wiry hair. Just as the fingers of his right hand began to explore the rest of her feminine anatomy, the muscles of her legs tightened and she uttered a trembling shout. He started to pull back, asking if he'd caused her discomfort, but she leaned forward, reached her hands under his armpits, and pulled him on top of her with strength he hadn't been aware she possessed.

"Please, Spock," she whined. " _Please_."

"Nyota, I-"

" _Just fuck me_ ," she breathed impatiently, nibbling at the lobe of his ear.

He'd never heard her speak in this manner but didn't linger long in his reflections about her unusual shift in vocabulary. He planted his hands above her shoulders and lowered himself, and she wasted no time gripping his shaft to guide him inside her. The moment he felt the taut, wet heat of her body, he lost the last vestiges of his logic and dissolved into pulsing lust.

He thrust into her greedily. Nyota's strong thighs gripped his flanks, grinding her pelvis against his pubic bone in a constant, rocking motion. After several minutes he perceived a subtle tightening of her muscles and then she descended into a series of shrieks and spasms. He hesitated, lifting his right hand to her face, but she gripped his hips and kept their bodies locked together.

The moment his hand made contact with her face, he was overwhelmed by a flurry of powerful emotions from deep within her consciousness, all swirling around a feeling of contentment so intense it dwarfed everything else. She lie underneath him, eyes closed and shivering, and when he retracted his hand from her cheek to support his weight and make her more comfortable, her eyes sprung open.

"Why did you let go? I loved that – feeling that much closer to you."

"Did you achieve an orgasm?" he inquired, studying her features carefully.

She blinked several times and burst into a small fit of giggles. Laughter seemed to have the curious effect of involuntarily contracting her vaginal muscles in a similar manner to what had happened just moments earlier. "Um… _yeah_ , actually. But I don't think _you_ did."

"I was unaware you required me to ejaculate as well," he informed her.

Her expression was unrecognizable. She glared at him, laughing through a deep frown. "I don't _require_ … Why did we do this if- I don't understand. It's like you did this just for me."

"I know the act of mating is important to you and you had concerns about our physical compatibility."

"This wasn't supposed to be about me, or you. It was supposed to be about _us_ ," she insisted, pushing down on his hips to free their bodies from their joined state.

She pulled herself into a kneeling position and Spock sat back on his haunches, his lok still swollen and now glistening from the fluids resulting in their recent coupling. Nyota's subtle scent heightened his arousal, but he managed to keep his control.

"It seemed logical to please you if I intended to continue in my efforts to secure you as a mate," he replied slowly.

She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth, and Spock, sensing her irritation, reached for her hands. Her mouth slammed shut with an audible clink of her teeth and she turned her head to gaze at the wall, her eyes wide and unblinking. "I don't even really know what to say to that. I don't know what to _do_ with that."

"You imply that you have no intention of becoming my bonded mate," he said, feeling an uncontrollable panic sweep through him.

" _I didn't say that_ ," she snapped, glaring at him. "I just- I don't want you to _only_ think about me. Sex is usually better if it feels good for everyone involved."

"The sensation was quite pleasing," he argued.

"Not as much for you as it was for me, apparently," she sighed, biting her bottom lip. Her eyes fell on his disheveled bedspread, but then moved to his legs, working their way from his knees to his groin. "Will you let me try something?"

"Specify."

She gave him a pointed look and a small smile, and then leaned forward, gripping the base of his lok with her left hand and stroking upward several times before taking the tip into her mouth. He emitted a reflexive sigh and felt every single muscle in his body freeze. The feeling was just as gratifying as mating had been, only now his mind was no longer occupied with bringing her to orgasm and her tongue targeted the most sensitive region around the head of his organ. Her hand moved in tandem with her mouth and he very quickly started to feel the buildup of hot, prickling energy from within his core.

He tried to push down on her shoulders and tell her he was on the verge of release and doubted his ability to control it much longer, but the words came out in a panting whimper and he found he was too weak to push her away. Her grip tightened and her mouth worked harder, promptly sending him over the edge. It was a burst of euphoria and pleasure so concentrated it was nearly painful, but rather than recoil in disgust, Nyota continued her efforts.

After several seconds the wave of gratification passed and his flesh became so sensitive that the touch of her hand and mouth were excruciating, but before he could choke out a plea for her to stop, she relaxed her grip and backed away, propping herself up on all fours. They stared at each other for a few moments, and though Spock started to feel drowsy, he felt himself getting lost in the fullness of her gaze.

"So what now?" Nyota asked.

 ** _Four hours later…_**

Nyota swung herself back into his pelvis, taking his length into her with slow delight and driving them both closer to ecstasy. She was on all fours and he was behind her on his knees, his left hand resting on the small of her back and his right hand massaging her ko-lok.

Spock had learned much about Nyota in these last hours, and about himself. He knew she enjoyed the feeling of having her nipples lightly caressed but disliked having them pinched or squeezed. She also took pleasure in having her buttocks gently slapped, but had been quick to correct him when he'd struck her too hard, which was regrettably easy to do. When he explained he would prefer to skip the practice altogether for fear of using unintentionally excessive force, she'd been very understanding.

She had no interest in anal intercourse but didn't seem to mind if he massaged that particular orifice externally with his fingers. She greatly enjoyed sitting atop him to mate, but only if they were facing each other, claiming the experience was enhanced if he softly massaged her breasts at the same time.

As for Spock, there was nothing he hadn't appreciated and relished in, excepting the one occasion when she'd tried to flip him over in a moment of aggressive passion and kneed him in the testicles. Discovering what drove her to pleasure was as gratifying as the acts themselves.

When she had suggested they get cleaned up, they had mated in the sonic shower, a feat made possible by her balance and flexibility and by his strength and endurance. When she'd said she was hungry, they'd consumed a quick bowl of tomato soup and then mated in the kitchen. The more they mated, the more insatiable their need seemed to become, which was worrisome because he knew it was beginning to strain her.

"Don't stop," she begged, pushing against him with increasing fervor.

He tried to match her pace but the rhythm quickly became discordant, so he surrendered himself to her, focusing on stimulating her ko-lok. Her shoulders dipped down, putting her in an almost prone position, but the shift in her hips increased his pleasure.

Moments later the tension in her muscles ascended into shuddering elation and he quickly followed with his own sexual release. They fell back onto the bed, aching and out of breath, and Nyota snuggled into the left side of his body, resting her head on his abdomen to listen to the sound of his heartbeat.

"I still want to know where you learned to do this," she murmured, kissing his bare stomach.

His forefingers met hers and he allowed himself to indulge in the calming experience of ozh'esta.

"Clarify."

She scoffed and explained, "I want to know where you figured out how to deliver sexual performances like that."

"I already told you I performed a survey of human anatomy and sexuality," he reminded her.

"You didn't learn how to make your girlfriend come nine different ways from an anatomy textbook."

"No, I also discovered a series of unsettling videos and a fictional work," he explained. "As well as-"

"Unsettling videos and a fictional work?" she interrupted.

He explained about the videos that had turned up in the search results when he'd queried "how to produce a female orgasm," everything from the woman with the unusual gag to the performance by the women in the horse costume. Or at least he'd _tried_ to explain. He was barely into his third sentence when Nyota started laughing, and it wasn't long before she was clutching her side and struggling to catch her breath.

"I do not understand the source of your amusement," he insisted.

"It's- I just- I _can't_ ," she stammered, starting to hiccup from her excessive mirth.

When her laughter finally subsided enough for her to speak, she took a series of slow breaths and asked, "Ok, so tell me about this 'fictional work.'"

He outlined the basic plot of _The Squire's Mistress_ , and just as he was telling her about Lord Rycliffe and Anastasia's wedding night, she cocked her head and said, "That sounds like a cheap bodice ripper."

"Perhaps you could clarify your terminology."

"It's just a story told around sexual encounters, usually featuring some poor woman who's conned into loving some overly muscular guy through a forced seduction trope."

"I was curious about the female protagonist's wavering loyalty as the opportunity for coitus with multiple mates continued to present itself."

She started to laugh again and asked, "Where did you read this?"

"It was in an antiquated paper book, which is currently sitting on my desk," he replied.

He hadn't even finished his explanation when her eyes grew large and she flew from the room, returning moments later with the novel in her hands.

" _Computer, lights_ ," she barked as she flopped back onto the bed.

She began to read aloud from its pages, and when she reached the scene containing the wedding night of Lord Rycliffe, Count of Manchesterly and his young bride, her tone grew stilted and derisive.

"'And now, I shall have you,' said Lord Rycliffe, massaging her treasured pearl of passion before piercing her with his virile maleness?" she sneered, looking at Spock as if she didn't comprehend the text.

"I believe he was referring to massaging her clitoris prior to penetrating-"

" _Oh my God_ , Spock," she interrupted with a loud snort. " _This_ is what you read to study human sexuality?"

"There was also-" he began, attempting to explain about the report on female sexuality.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, holding it up.

"From Cadet Applebaum," he replied.

The evident confusion on Nyota's face prompted him to add, "She is a first year cadet in my computing theory seminar."

Her confusion only deepened. "And she just… _gave_ it to you?" she snorted. "Because she thought you might enjoy some light reading?"

As Spock explained the incident in the Tarkington Building earlier that afternoon, Nyota's eyes continued to grow wider and eventually her mouth hung open to form silent laughter. He concluded his story by mentioning, "It was logical to conclude she'd inadvertently dropped it, and so I collected it and intended to return it to her on Monday."

"Spock, you _can't_ ," she replied, taking several deep gulps between racking laughs.

"It would not be appropriate for me to keep that which is not mine when I know to whom it belongs," he argued.

"Trust me, it's even less appropriate for you to give it back."

"Explain."

"Spock, you really have no idea just how many female cadets find you sexy, do you?"

 _Sexy_? An adjective defined as being sexually attractive or appealing? He attempted to reflect upon her revelation but she shook her head and continued, "Look, you overheard them reading a smutty book and talking about you. I don't know if it's possible to literally _die_ of embarrassment, but I imagine if it _were_ , Eleanor Applebaum probably would when you tried giving this back to her."

"But it is not mine," he insisted.

"I tell you what, if it's really going to eat away at your conscience to keep it, then the best solution is to go and put it right back where you found it, which is what you _should_ have done in the first place," Nyota sighed.

"Someone else might have taken it," Spock argued. "Therefore it was logical for me to take it, as I had no intention of keeping it for my own."

"Please take my advice and either keep it or put it back where you found it," she begged. "I know that sounds illogical and yes, humans are illogical, but _please_ , trust me on this."

"Very well," he agreed.

"But in the mean time, how about you go back to massaging my _treasured pearl of passion_?" she grinned.

Their eyes met briefly and he leaned forward to do as she'd asked, but the moment his hands touched her body, she began to laugh uncontrollably once again.

"Nyota?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she cackled. "I'm just never going to be able to get that out of my head."

"Clarify."

"My Vulcan boyfriend likes trashy romance novels."


End file.
